


Derring-do!

by APgeeksout



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Contains minor spoilers for Courting the Master Jewel Thief storylets, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: It's difficult to see the rest of your plan play out through the haze of dust and debris that used to be the station house's foundations, but you would know him anywhere, cutting an elegant figure despite the liberal coating of soot and grit and the way his steps toward you stumble in the gloom.
Relationships: Player (Fallen London)/The Master Jewel Thief, Player (Fallen London)/The Revolutionary Firebrand
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Derring-do!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RobberBaroness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobberBaroness/gifts).



> One version of what might happen with the Master Jewel Thief if you decide to “Spring Him” after his arrest, the in-game text for which is as follows:
> 
> “You have the connections to help you obtain and plant the explosives. You have men on hand to clear the rubble. You have help in distracting the Constabulary. Boom! It goes off without a hitch. Your jewel-thief scrambles free of the smoking wreck of the police station, into your waiting carriage and into your arms. How romantic!”

All is in motion. You can just make out the hulking shadows of the crew of Clay Revolutionaries positioned in the mouth of the next alley, and the chilling scream of your dearest friend The Unsung Trouper slices through the night like a skyglass blade. The reviews for the last variety show you produced together may have been middling, but her shouts of "A Jack! A Jack! He just shinnied up that drainpipe!" are certainly rousing enough to send a veritable river of constables flowing out of the station's gates and flooding into the Bazaar's sidestreets. 

"Patience. Courage," the Firebrand counsels, from his place in the carriage's driver's seat. The irrigo taint that, even nearly a week removed from that place, still clings to him is barely visible in tonight's moonish light. You hold out your hand, and he takes it in his own, lets you squeeze tight at his fingers when the sound and impact of the explosion reverberate through you both. 

It's difficult to see the rest of your plan play out through the haze of dust and debris that used to be the station house's foundations, but you would know him anywhere, cutting an elegant figure despite the liberal coating of soot and grit and the way his steps toward you stumble in the gloom. 

He dives into the carriage, and the Revolutionary Firebrand graces you both with a smile before he looses your hand and gives the horses enough rein to beat a retreat that you hope strikes a proper balance between _speedy_ and _inconspicuous_. 

The Master Jewel Thief smells of smoke, but that does not stop you from pulling him close. The soot will rinse from you both easily enough after a long soak in the bath of your suite at the Royal Beth. His smile is vibrantly white in his grime-streaked face when you part.

"I knew you would come for me," he says. "I was so sure, I even picked you up a little present." He presses something into your palm, its metal surface warmed by the heat of his body. "Courtesy of myself, and the auxilliary officer tasked with delivering my midday crust."

It's a pocketwatch, set with a single moonpearl, representing the eye of a great zeebeast etched on its cover: certain to be a grand conversation starter at The Bohemian Sculptress's salon or over your next round of Carnelian Ale with his old associates at The Gothic Heroine. Certainly not the most valuable token he's ever presented you with, but perhaps the most precious.


End file.
